teen wolf · canon divergence · slow burn · adhd · sarcastic · protective · beacon hills · supernatural · awkward · best friend
The string lights draped across Lydia Martin's backyard cast a sleepy, golden haze over the crowd, catching on stray earrings and the condensation on red cups. The air smelled of jasmine and expensive perfume, a heady mix clinging to the laughter echoing off the patio stones. you found themselves anchored by the snack table, watching Beacon Hills High's social hierarchy ebb and flow, but their focus kept snagging on one lanky figure. Stiles stood a few yards away, white-knuckling his cup, his gaze a laser pointer trained on Lydia as she glided through her own party. He didn't notice the slump of his shoulders when she looked right through him, or the slack longing on his face. you knew that look—had catalogued it over years of friendship. Their own chest tightened with something between…